Shout In Your Sleep
by Unoriginality
Summary: It's 4:30 in the morning and Bucky can't sleep. (Winter Soldier spoilers.)


Bucky stared at the ceiling. It was four-thirty in the morning and he couldn't sleep. Hadn't slept at all, actually. Sleep wasn't a luxury he tended to have over the years. Most of his time was spent in the freezer and when he was out, 'shaping the century' or whatever else bullshit they'd fed him, he was usually too focused on the job that he didn't sleep.

In the bed across the room, Steve snored lightly. Bucky'd almost worried about that snoring when he first heard it, remembering the asthma that Steve used to have, but it lacked the wheezing, so he decided it was probably just a stuffy nose and let it go.

This was ridiculous. He couldn't sleep, what was the point of remaining in bed? He got up as quietly as possible, careful not to wake Steve. All three men in that house were combat veterans, they woke at the slightest thing, and Bucky had no care for company at the moment, so he tread carefully.

Out in the kitchen, he discovered upon entering, were those mealy things that the modern day world dared to call bananas waiting on the counter for breakfast. The difference in taste made it so that Bucky couldn't bring himself to eat one. He set them over by the fridge and took a seat at the table.

Coffee. Coffee would be good.

He wasn't so lost in modern technology that wasn't weapons that he couldn't use a coffee maker, so he set up a pot to brew, hoping it wouldn't wake Steve or Sam.

They'd been there a month, and Bucky still wasn't used to the domesticity his friends had pulled him into. Bucky was trying to adapt, but as the Winter Soldier, he was at a loss. But as long as he had Steve, he'd get over it eventually.

Sam had immediately asked if Bucky was there to tear off his wings again when Bucky had showed up at the door.

"Do you have any on?" Bucky had asked in retort. "Where's Steve?"

Sam reluctantly had let him in, calling for Steve. Steve had been wary at first, and Bucky couldn't blame him. The last time they'd met, Bucky had nearly killed him. That thought still turned his stomach, and he suddenly wasn't sure that coffee was actually a good idea.

But the moment Bucky explained, said he remembered, not all of it, not by a long shot, but seeing his face and profile at the Smithsonian exhibit had triggered enough to want to come home to his only friend, Steve had all but scooped him up in a hug.

Bucky poured his coffee, walking back over to the table with it and sat back down, lost in thought. He couldn't sleep, not knowing that Hydra was still out there. He was half-tempted to ask Steve to go with him on a 'destroy everything Hydra in the world' spree, just to ensure their safety and for something to do besides brood about his slowly returning memories of his life as Bucky. Then there were the memories that were never far from the surface, the memories of being constantly wiped and refrozen, of killing people who had committed no crime but to know too much or just be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

That wasn't the Bucky that Steve had known. Hell, it wasn't even the Bucky that _Bucky_ had known.

He tapped one metal finger on the table idly as his coffee cooled to something resembling safe temperature to drink. The computers and electronics inside his arm were starting to fail him in places, and without Hydra to fix it, he could be in trouble. Steve had never been much of an engineer and while Sam was far more versed in modern technology, he didn't feel comfortable trying to deal with Bucky's arm. "Too advanced, I'd just muck it up," had been his reply when Steve asked him about it.

Fair enough.

There was noise from the back bedrooms, Sam's and the guest room that he and Steve stayed in, and Bucky sighed. There went his privacy. The smell of coffee was a siren's song around that place.

"Buck, what're you doing up already?" Steve asked, stumbling into the kitchen with a sleepy yawn. His hair was a mess, and Bucky had to resist another sigh; Steve was never good at waking up in the morning and taking care of little things like combing his hair or brushing his teeth before dirtying them up further with coffee.

"Couldn't sleep," he said.

Steve poured himself a cup of the coffee Bucky had brewed and took a seat across from him. "Nightmares?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, didn't sleep at all."

"Just as bad," Steve said. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." He never did. There was too much there that he didn't want Steve to know about, even though logically, Steve probably already knew most of it. He'd been given that file by Romanoff. Steve probably knew more than Bucky actually remembered.

That didn't mean Bucky wanted to talk about it. Talking about it meant reliving it. And Bucky wasn't ready for that.

"It's the bed, right?" Bucky gave him a blank look. Steve gave him a sympathetic smile. "Sam asked me that the first time we met. The bed's too soft. It's like sleeping on a marshmallow. It's too different from what you're used to, it prevents sleep. Keeps you awake and you can't get comfortable."

"Maybe," Bucky said, pushing his mostly empty coffee mug back and forth between his hands. "Do you still get nightmares?"

"All the time," Steve said. "Mostly involving you."

Bucky sighed. "Steve, you can't hold onto that forever. It wasn't your fault."

Steve gave him a sad smile. "You let go of your guilt, I'll let go of mine."

"It's different," Bucky protested. "You tried. You never stopped being the good guy."

"Bucky, listen to me. The Winter Soldier was an entirely different person from Bucky Barnes. It may have been your hands that committed those crimes, but it wasn't you. Brainwashing gives you a 'get out of jail free' card. You had no choice, you didn't know better. You weren't Bucky."

Bucky frowned. "Then why did you tell me I was?"

"Because I knew Bucky was still in there. The Winter Soldier was a mask, a band-aid on top of a wound. You're not him anymore. You're Bucky. You're my friend, and I'm with you no matter what happens. Even if you relapse."

The idea of that made his eyes grow wet with fear. "I won't relapse," he said in barely more than a whisper. If he relapsed, if somehow there was a trigger in his head somewhere to reactivate the brainwashing, and he hurt Steve again, he might just throw himself off another mountain and hope he died this time. He doubted there was one; they wouldn't have had to keep wiping him every time something came floating back if there were, but the possibility scared him.

"I know," Steve said. "That said, when are you going to cut your hair?"

"Huh?" That seemed like a weird subject jump, but Steve always did have a weird brain at times. "I'm not, I like it like this."

"It's long. It gets in your eyes."

"And?"

"And it's not long enough for a ponytail. How do you stand that?"

Bucky shrugged. "I'm used to it. Besides, at this point, if I cut my hair, I'm going to feel like I'm going back into the army. I don't want to take orders from anyone again."

"Don't blame you," Steve said, looking thoughtful. "But that does kinda raise the question. What the hell are we going to do for careers now? I was only with SHIELD because of Nick and because Peggy helped found it. I thought it'd be a safe place to work. So much for that."

"I don't know," Bucky said, staring off just past Steve. "I only have a specific set of skills now. I can't exactly become a librarian."

"I think we'd both go crazy with quieter jobs," Steve agreed. "But then, maybe not. It'd be hard to settle into civilian life, but Sam helps people do it all the time."

"Coming out of the army and coming out of Hydra are different," Bucky said somewhat distantly.

Steve watched him. "You never came home from the war," he pointed out.

"Neither did you. We both went under ice." Steve looked surrendered to that point. "I was tortured and experimented on. Turned into a weapon for them to pull the trigger at anyone who was inconvenient for them. And I didn't care. It was a job, it was what I was there to do. I thought I was doing good. The world would be better once Hydra took over and kept everyone safe." He paused, worried he'd said too much, then went back to studying his now-empty mug. "So it's different."

"Is that what they told you?"

Bucky nodded slowly. "Yeah. My work was a blessing to mankind. Pierce's exact words. Right before they mindwiped me to keep me from remembering you anymore than I already did. Didn't work as well as they'd liked. Never did. I always remembered what they were doing. I sometimes wonder why they never noticed that."

"I don't know. But I'm glad it didn't wipe me entirely from your mind."

Bucky couldn't help the small smile that crossed his face at that. "I could never fully forget you. You've been part of me too long."

Steve gave him one of his easy, brilliant smiles that never failed to cheer Bucky up in better days. "Glad to hear you say that. Why don't you go try to get some sleep, Bucky? It's not long before we get up, but a couple hours might help. You don't wanna go running with no sleep."

"What about you? I woke you."

That made Steve shrug. "I got sleep. I'll keep watch until you and Sam wake up. Don't worry, you're safe here. Just get some sleep."

Safe. What a foreign concept. But Bucky was feeling tired, even despite the coffee, now that he'd talked to Steve. "If you need sleep, get your ass back in bed," Bucky said as he stood.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Asshole."

"Sleep," Steve said one more time, shooing Bucky towards their room with a gesture of his hand.

Bucky gave him a tired wave, then went back to bed, curling up under the covers.

This time, he slept.


End file.
